


Chew Me Up, Spit Me Out

by The_starstruck_prince



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: M/M, uh, yeah this sucks dont read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 05:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_starstruck_prince/pseuds/The_starstruck_prince
Summary: Connor took his letter.'Now we can both pretend we have friends.'Connor knows that he writes letters to himself.'Now we can both pretend we have friends.'Evan numbly forced one foot in front of the other, stiffly walking out of the lab. He was minutes from the dismissal bell, and then he could go home. He could do this.'Now we can both pretend we have friends.'His brain felt like when someone shoved a screwdriver in between turning cogs of a clock, causing the whole machine to lock up. The echo of Connor's words felt like a broken second hand, ticking back and forth.The bell rang, scaring him out of his thoughts. He quickly left the school, walking home instead of taking the bus. The sun shining on the vibrant green and red leaves of the trees turning in the late autumn air failed to lighten his mood. He went home, did his homework, made leftovers for dinner, and went to bed, but he was unable to sleep.Based on the poem by Lang Leav.





	Chew Me Up, Spit Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> this is very sad, probably very upsetting, with very detailed descriptions of anxiety. If that sort of thing isn't good for you, this prolly isn't a good fic for you to read
> 
> anyways, this whole fic is a callout post to everything that people seem to conveniently forget in this fandom

Evan kinda wanted to cry, kinda wanted to run, and kinda wanted to pretend like he was completely fine. As he made his way to the computer lab, he hoped no one would see him- and at the same time he wanted someone to  _ notice _ him, maybe talk to him. Maybe ask about his cast- maybe ask to sign it, the marker weighing down in his pocket prompted. It seemed to burn through the fabric, constantly reminding him that no one would care enough to ask.

Last year, he had finally broken the habit of creeping around the corners of the school, peeking down the hallways to scan for anyone walking to class. He remembered the soft murmurs just behind his ear,  _ stop being such a freak, no one cares enough to notice you anyway,  _ his self-consciousness whispering nasty things to him, leaving a cold, disgusting feeling crawling down the skin of his neck. He was glad that he had stopped trying to avoid any kind of human contact, especially now that he had realized that no one would try to talk to him, except for ' _ excuse me' _ and  _ ‘could I borrow a pencil?' _

He pushed open the computer lab door, careful to make sure his cast was hugged to his body so it wouldn't accidentally scrape against the doorframe. His eyes swept across the desks and monitors; thankfully, there was only one other person there- who Evan made sure not to look at for too long, so he couldn't be sure who it was. He breathed out a silent sigh of relief, painfully aware of the feeling of sweat clinging to his body, itching under his cast. He moved towards the computer closest to the corner, sitting in the uncomfortable, plastic chair. He forced himself not to look around again to see if anyone was looking at him, instead logging into the computer and opening up a blank document.

_ Dear Evan Hansen, _

_ Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year, because why would it be? _

He felt a heavy sinking in his chest and imagined a sucking chest wound right in the center of his sternum, wondered if it would hurt or if it would just feel numb. He imagined the feeling of his lungs collapsing and wondered if it was anything like how he felt after hitting the ground and having the breath knocked out of him.

_ Stop. _

_ Focus. _

_ Focus. _

_ Focus. _

_ Good _ .

Evan tried to finish his letter, but he couldn't keep his mind from wandering back to earlier that day, when he ran into Connor Murphy. He was angry, aggressive, and he had scared the hell out of Evan, but their eyes had met for a second.

For just one second, Evan saw himself staring back through Connor's eyes.

The loneliness, the anger, the emptiness that Evan sometimes saw when he looked in the mirror in the mornings. They reminded him of some wild animal- caged and desperate for a way out.

He wondered if that was what had left his hands clammy and shaking, had left his collar feeling too small, to the point of suffocation; when Zoe had found him braced against the wall, nearly in tears and trying to silence the buzzing in his ears, she had apologized for her brother's anger.

Evan drew his tongue over the broken skin of his bottom lip (where he would always pull the skin off when he felt his anxiety creeping up his neck as he counted down the seconds that he would have to be in the heavy, bustling hallways) and pulled at the collar of his polo, making himself focus on the screen before him.

_ Sincerely, _

_ Your most best, and dearest friend, Me. _

He signed off his letter, moving to stand up. He pressed the print option, tucked his chair back under the desk, and logged off once he heard the printer whir to life. He walked over to the printer, keeping his eyes glued to the floor to avoid eye contact with the attendant that seemed to be watching him since he had gotten up. He counted the steps it took to the printer, but was interrupted by a pair of legs standing in front of him.

Evan lifted his gaze and felt every drop of blood in his body turn to ice.

Connor Murphy loomed over him, dark circles under his eyes and slouched unceremoniously  _ in the way _ .

Evan stared up at him, trying to find any kind of word that wouldn't come out choked. Connor's eyes dropped down to his cast- his blank, bleach white cast- and raised an eyebrow.

Connor said something to him, but it came back garbled and senseless. Evan frowned at him, trying to process the words that were just said to him.

"I- what?"

"I said, how'd you break your arm?"

Evan's fingers went numb. "Um, I-I uh, I fell out of a tree," He stammered out. 

Connor, noticeably more subdued than he was earlier, just laughed and shook his head.

"That's the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard."

"Yeah." Evan forced a laugh and shifted his weight to his other leg, subconsciously bunching up his shirt fabric and releasing it, leaving it creased and slightly sweaty.

"Um... No one's signed your cast."

"My... oh, um. Yeah." Evan's chest felt like it was caving in.

"I'll sign it." Connor said, eyes unreadable. He seemed to be genuinely offering, but Evan felt like the trapped animal this time, like it was a joke about to be played out. 

"You don't have to-" Evan objected quickly, his throat feeling like sandpaper. 

Connor shrugged. "I want to. Do you have a sharpie?" 

Evan quickly dug the marker from his pocket and handed it off, nearly dropping it in the process. He presented his arm, flinching back when Connor grabbed it to hold it still. Evan found himself less anxious and more confused as he watched the other write out 'C O N N O R' in big, blocky letters.

"There, now we can both pretend we have friends."

Evan nodded numbly, feeling worse by the second; he watched as Connor offered a paper out to him.

"Is this yours? I found it on the printer and it had your name on it, I figured since we're the only people here-"

"Yes- yes, it's mine, thank y-"

Evan felt his heart seize in terror, only  _ freaks _ write letters to  _ themselves-  _ and he reached out to take it when Connor froze. He must've caught his name in the letter, because he snatched it back and read over it quickly.

"Connor, I-"

"Is this letter referring to me? 'All my hope is pinned on Connor, who I don't even know-'"

"Please just give it back-" Evan's words were running together as he tried to snatch the letter back, but Connor held it just out of reach, reading the rest of it. 

"You knew I would find this, didn't you? You knew that I was the only other person in here, and you wrote this so I would find it, didn't you?"

"Why would I do that?!" Evan shouted, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling his eyes begin to sting with tears. Why was he crying? Why was he crying? 

Connor threw the sharpie at Evan, whipping around and storming out of the lab. Evan called after him, moving to follow, begging for his letter back, but Connor was gone and Evan crumpled against the wall, furiously wiping at his eyes. His chest stung where he had been hit, and he shakily picked the sharpie up off the floor.

Connor took his letter.

_ Now we can both pretend we have friends. _

Connor knows that he writes letters to himself.

_ Now we can both pretend we have friends. _

Evan numbly forced one foot in front of the other, stiffly walking out of the lab. He was minutes from the dismissal bell, and then he could go home. He could do this.

_ Now we can both pretend we have friends. _

His brain felt like when someone shoved a screwdriver in between turning cogs of a clock, causing the whole machine to lock up. The echo of Connor's words felt like a broken second hand, ticking back and forth.

The bell rang, scaring him out of his thoughts. He quickly left the school, walking home instead of taking the bus. The sun shining on the vibrant green and red leaves of the trees turning in the late autumn air failed to lighten his mood. He went home, did his homework, made leftovers for dinner, and went to bed, but he was unable to sleep.

**_What was it like to love him? Asked Gratitude._ **

Evan didn't see Connor for three days after the mishap; they didn't share any classes, and Evan was too anxious to go seek him out in the cafeteria. He tried to talk to Jared about it, but he didn't have any classes with him either, and only made jokes about how Connor was gay for Evan. When he asked Alana, she went on some tangent about how she thought Connor might have been her chemistry partner, then changed the subject and left. 

He felt like it was only a matter of time before disaster would hit. He figured Connor would spread the word that he wrote letters to himself, he waited for everyone to start whispering when he passed, waited for the ball to drop- but it didn't come.

Somehow, in some stroke of luck, Evan passed Connor in the hallway and called out to him in a sudden surge of adrenaline. It was replaced by a blow of anxiety when Connor turned around. He shuffled over, looking disinterested and exhausted. 

"What?"

"Can- can I have my letter back? I-I uh, I need it, for um..." Evan looked down at his hands willing himself to stop picking at his cuticles, but he couldn't make himself stop.

"What do you need it for?" The question was simple, but edged; it cut through Evan and left him wanting to tell Connor that he could have it instead of having to deal with this confrontation.

"My, um, my therapy?" It came out as more of a question, and Evan felt his heart sink to his stomach once Connor cocked an eyebrow. He just wanted this to be over.

After studying him for a second, Connor shrugged. "I don't have it with me." He answered.

"You- you know what, you can keep it, uh, I don't even need it. It's fine, really-" Evan stuttered out, beginning to feel lightheaded. He turned and walked away quickly, suddenly much more glad that he and Connor didn't have any classes together.

That night, Evan laid in bed and wondered about everything he knew about Connor.

**_It was like being exhumed, I answered, and brought to life in a flash of brilliance._ **

Evan found his mind occupied with Connor more often since the letter incident. He desperately  _ wanted _ to be his friend, because the closest thing he had to that was Jared, maybe Alana, and that... wasn't something to brag about. Evan found himself hoping that maybe,  _ maybe _ he could have a normal conversation with Connor and try to initiate a friendship.

When he brought it up with Jared, he asked about Zoe. It was weird- as soon as he became fixated on Connor and trying to befriend him, his crush on Zoe just… disappeared. Evan had brushed off the question at the time, but he spent the entire night thinking about the Murphy siblings and his feelings towards them.

_ Was _ he gay? No, because he liked- likes?- Zoe, and he was pretty sure he didn’t like Connor in a romantic kind of way; hell, he couldn’t even talk to him, and if he was developing  _ another _ crush, he didn’t think that he could take it. He liked the idea of a friendship with Connor, or anything, with anyone at this point. He supposed he just wanted someone to care about him, someone who wasn’t his mom or his therapist.

When was the last time he had seen his therapist?

It seemed like everything was falling apart, and the thought made him sit up and press his back against the headboard of his bed, made his head start to buzz again.

He vaguely remembered someone telling him that ‘sometimes things have to fall apart to fall into place’. He dug his fingers under his cast, trying to scratch at the skin before giving up and laying back down.

As much as he wanted to deny it, Evan couldn’t help but feel the tiniest hint of hope and warmth when faced at the prospect of Connor. Someone like him, someone who was hurt and lost, someone who would understand, someone to care for him.

So Evan’s obsession with Connor Murphy grew.

**_What was it like to be loved in return? Asked Joy._ **

For two weeks, he had no luck. Evan had no idea how to even approach him, and he was becoming increasingly more frustrated. 

_ Evan, you fucking creep, _ he would tell himself, but that didn't stop him. 

After a particularly exhausting day, Evan dragged himself out of the school, considering the bus for a moment- definitely not, he decided after a moment. He trudged along the sidewalk, barely registering the sound of crunching gravel rolling up on him. 

"Hey, Evan!" a voice lifted him out of his exhausted state. He looked over- there he was, Connor in some ugly old car, leaning on the console to talk out of the passenger side window.

"Uh, hi Connor." He said, a little scared at the fact the Connor could drive, which didn't even make sense because what senior couldn't drive?

"Wanna ride home?"

"What?"

"Do you want a ride home?" 

Evan was wary, but he saw his chance. "Where's Zoe? Don't you drive her home?" He knew it was a dumb question, but he didn't see her in the car and wanted to confirm her absence. 

"At home. Sick." Came the answer. Evan sighed, tugged at his jacket's sleeve, and got into the car. He gave Connor his address, mind racing with all the things he wanted to say. 

After a few moments of silence, "You, um, you have a nice car."

"No I don't. It's a piece of shit."

"Oh." 

Connor seemed amused by his response, because he exhaled with a grin. Evan cast a nervous side glance at him, copying the smile. 

It didn’t take long to reach Evan’s house, but it felt like eons for him. When Connor pulled into the driveway, Evan quickly got out, stumbling through a thank you that felt too awkward. Quickly, he shut the door and turned, digging out his house key. 

He was about to unlock the door when he heard Connor calling back at him, once again leaned over his console, speaking through the open window. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, carefully folded, and held it up. Evan, confused, walked back to take it from him, beginning to unfolding it.

“Don’t open it till I’m gone.” Connor said, before rolling up the window and taking off down the street. Evan waved before unfolding the paper, staring at it numbly. 

It was his letter.

Connor had kept his letter, to himself, and had just given it back. 

At the bottom, scrawled in nearly illegible writing was a phone number, presumably his. 

Evan’s lips tugged into a smile as he went inside, going straight to his room and collapsing on the bed. 

**_It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied._ **

It took Evan two days to muster up the courage to text him. He wasn’t sure how to approach it, he didn’t like to text first in case he was interrupting something. Then there was the problem of actually having to  _ say _ something. Should he thank him, or just say hi? If he did say thank you, what was it even for? Talking to him? Giving him his letter back? Giving him his number? 

Finally he decided on a simple text.  _ ‘Hey, sorry if I’m bothering you, but I wanted to say thanks for giving my letter back.’ _

Evan liked texting, he figured. No one could hear him stuttering and saying ‘um’ after every few words; if he took a while to respond because he was thinking about the exact right thing to say, he could just say that he didn’t see the text or was busy. He didn’t have to worry about social cues as much, or if they were staring, and he didn’t have to bother with being so stiff because when people texted, it was just so much simpler.

He didn’t like texting Connor though- mostly because Connor was  _ awful _ at texting. He always shortened everything, always lowercase, never any punctuation, and the worst part was that he didn’t seem to understand the concept of texting back.

But Evan was willing to put up with that, because Connor was his  _ friend _ , and really the only friend that he could text several times in a row, rambling about his day or tree facts or just odd little things he thought about. Plus, Connor would always come back eventually, an apology tagged with an excuse about being asleep or high, usually.

He was glad he had Connor. They could stay up late together and talk about anything, and eventually Connor opened up to him about his home life and his mental illnesses, which led to Evan opening up as well.

The first month of their friendship, they only strictly texted. No calls, no talking during school, no hanging out. Just texting, which Evan was more than okay with- he didn’t much like going to crowded public places to hang out. 

Then, they started actually talking in school. They would eat lunch together outside, or tuck themselves into a corner of the library to get away from the noise. That moved on to them hanging out on the weekends, usually ending up going to the park or staying at Evan’s house.

They never went over to Connor’s house. It was a sort of unspoken thing, Evan knew that Connor’s family didn’t know about their friendship. Evan knew not to bring it up, and he figured Connor was grateful for that. He didn’t mind, really- he would just awkward and out of place if they did end up staying at his place. 

He liked Connor, he thought of him as his best friend, even.

**_To be heard after a lifetime of silence._ **

Evan wasn’t gay- at least, he didn’t think so. Within a few months of talking to each other, he and Connor had grown close, and Evan found himself feeling  _ different  _ towards Connor. It wasn’t like the friendship he had with Jared, it felt closer and more intimate- except for evan didn’t want to use that word, because that implies a romantic relationship, which is what he and Connor  _ didn’t _ have- and just thinking about it made Evan giddy and nervous and feel sick to his stomach. 

He never brought it up with Connor- he knew that he could probably talk to him about anything, but Connor might take it the wrong way, might think that he meant romantically, might think that he was disgusting, even.

That’s why it caught him so off guard when Connor climbed through his bedroom window in the middle of the night and woke him up. Well, he was surprised anyways, because that wasn’t a normal occurrence, but it was the talk that followed that really surprised him.

Connor felt the same.

Well, not the  _ same _ , because he liked Evan  _ romantically,  _ which set off about 30 different emotions at once when the nearly silent whisper hung in the air heavily.

“Connor, I, um…” Evan sat up, squinting at his clock before shuffling over a bit, letting Connor sit on the bed with him. “I think I feel the same way? I-I don’t know, I mean I feel different about you, but I’m not really sure if it’s-”

And suddenly Evan can’t speak because something is silencing him. 

It took a few excruciatingly long seconds for him to realize that something was Connor’s lips shoved against his. Well, not shoved- but it wasn’t as easy and comfortable as he had thought it would feel like, so shoved was the only word that he felt described the motion.

His stomach coiled tightly in his abdomen. He pulled away from Connor, frowning, heart pounding. 

“What? What is it?” Connor breathed, his eyes seeming to shine in the low light. 

“Connor, I don’t, um, I’m not- I can’t-” Evan couldn’t find the right words as panic began to crawl up his throat. 

Just like that, Connor was up, halfway across the room, heading for the window. He was silent, but Evan could tell that he had given the wrong response, he didn’t do the Right thing-

“Connor, wait.”

He stopped, but didn’t turn around. 

“I-I didn’t mean, um, that you should leave, I just- I just got a little overwhelmed for a moment, please don’t go.” Evan said in a quiet voice. Connor turned and approached the bed again, cautious and slow this time. Evan grabbed hold of his sleeve, tugging on it. Connor sat again, and Evan shifted closer to him.

They were in a kind of position that Connor was sitting back, and Evan was up on his knees so he was a tiny bit taller than the other. Slowly, he reached up and traced his fingertips along Connor’s face, running them over his jaw and cheekbones, his nose and lips, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Is this okay?” He breathed. Connor nodded once, barely tilting his head forward as confirmation. Evan cupped his face and leaned down, kissing Connor himself.

It was barely even a touch, barely brushed the skin, but it was enough for the two of them.

Connor fell asleep curled up next to Evan, and Evan watched his sleeping face and began to overthink everything.

**_What was it like to lose him? Asked Sorrow._ **

When Evan got the news, it felt like static was trapped inside his body. Everything felt fake, surreal, a lucid dream that he couldn’t seem to wake himself from. 

Everything seemed  _ fine _ to him. Connor seemed like he was  _ okay. _

Was that Evan’s mistake? He hadn't noticed the signs that were probably all there?

_ Was it something he had done? _

_ Was it his fault? _

Evan didn’t find out till days afterward- after probably hundreds of missed calls from him, Connor’s parents had reached out to him and delivered the news.

Now Evan stood in the principal’s office, stunned into silence. He could hear the adults speaking to him, but he couldn’t process any of the words being said to him. The only things that flashed through his mind was all the memories of Connor; every laugh, grin, outburst of anger, the way his skin was so soft against Evan’s, all the kisses shared between the two- suddenly gone, forever.

Evan tried to process everything that he had ever done, anything that could’ve upset him,  _ anything _ .

Connor’s dad approached him, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, son.” He said in a gruff tone. 

Evan nodded numbly.

**_There was a long pause before I responded: It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to me—said all at once._ **

Evan wished he could say that the view from 40 feet in the air made him feel exhilarated like it used to, but he couldn’t feel anything but the static that had entered his body that first day of knowing Connor was gone. 

He made sure he had climbed higher this time.

Regardless of what everyone said, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was  _ his _ fault.  _ There had been no goodbye, there was no warning.  _

Evan couldn’t handle being alone again. He couldn’t lose the one friend that he had, the one friend who seemed to care about him.

As he stared into the azure sky, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let go of the tree.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on tumblr, @the-starstruck-prince or @drabbles-of-a-cosmonaut
> 
> if you liked it, thank you! If you loved it, tell me your favourite part! <3


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